


Shipments to Brahma

by sashawiremarryme



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Blood, Jupeter Week 2018, Other, nothing graphic but there is blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 07:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15814161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sashawiremarryme/pseuds/sashawiremarryme
Summary: Peter Nureyev goes on a heist that hits a bit too close to home. When things go wrong he finds himself in the apartment of a detective who has quite a bit of experience with dealing with the past.





	Shipments to Brahma

**Author's Note:**

> Not gonna lie, I feel kind of bad about hurting this boy, he's been hurt enough.   
> On the other hand, MAKE HIM SUFFER!

For a master thief, you're pretty bad at sneaking through windows in the middle of the night.” Juno Steel said as he cleaned the gash on Peter Nureyev’s torso. Despite being the patient, Peter seemed more concerned with Juno than the copious amounts of blood he was losing by the second.

“Juno, are you okay?” Peter mumbled, struggling to stay conscious.

“I'm not the one who got stabbed.” He muttered as he turned away from the gory scene and took a deep breath.

“That’s not what I meant,” he considered his next words, trying not to upset the detective, “this is a lot of blood.”

“I wouldn't be too worried about it,” he said, visibly trying to distract himself from the task at hand, “someone your size would have to lose over a litre and a half of blood before they even had a chance of bleeding out in my kitchen, you should be fine.”

“Dr Steel, has anyone ever told you, you have the most comforting bedside manner I've ever encountered?” Peter grinned at him.

“How many doctors have you seen?” Juno continued his work.

“That's not the point,” he paused, “are you okay?” he asked again.

“I'd be a lot better if you stopped asking.” Juno snapped at him.

“If you insist.” Peter closed his eyes and tilted his head back, away from Juno, to hide any evidence of the pain he was in. He heard Juno say something but couldn't make out the words. He brushed it off as Juno verbalising his internal monologue.

“Nureyev!” Juno shoved him, startling him into alertness. “Nureyev, please don't go quiet like that. I thought you passed out for a second there.”

“Apologies Juno, I thought you wanted me to be silent.”

“I just wanted you to shut up about blood.”

“I'm sorry, I forgot, I'm not exactly thinking straight.” he smiled.

“Yeah, I guessed as much.” Juno looked him over in concern. “What happened?” He eventually asked. Peter had been waiting for the detective to grow curious enough to inquire about his evening activities from the moment he stumbled, half dead, through his window.

 

Peter arrived at Beatrix Cade’s mansion at 3:48. Cade was, depending on who you asked, either an artist or an arms dealer. She had made her fortune selling weapons whose mere existence was a war crime to various Outer Rim governments. Although many had attempted this over the years, she was one of the few who had managed to slip these shipments past the Solar Military who were meticulously monitoring everything entering the Outer Rim. Then, apparently deciding this wealth wasn't enough for her, she sold similar weaponry to resistance group throughout the Outer Rim.

Peter had been hired to find her shipment schedule. He has debated taking the job at all, it seemed too personal. He had spent most of his life avoiding reminders of what he was, not to mention Juno had forbidden him from committing crimes in Hyperion. But this was technically above Hyperion, and it seemed too good a challenge to refuse.

Cade had the toughest security he had ever seen. The guard rotations changed every day, the passwords changed every six hours, and the mansion’s location changed randomly and irregularly. He didn't know how long it would be above Hyperion and he didn't know when or where it would move. He was forced to rush his planning, rarely a recipe for success, and even cancel his plans with Juno for that evening out of fear that Cade’s would move before he had to chance to complete his mission, or worse, while he was still inside.

Peter scaled the walk around the house and waiting, out of sight of anyone on the other side of the wall. He had asked Rita to hack into Cade’s systems and disable the pressure sensors on the walls and the cameras so he was able to hang there undetected. When his watch hit 3:49:09, Peter, jumped over the wall, hoping that his information was correct—and that he remembered it correctly. He knew he had exactly sixteen seconds to cross the sixty metres between where he hit the ground and the momentarily unwatched doorway. When he reached the other side he slid through the door and tucked himself into a corner. His hiding place was a design flaw really, the location of the lights left him nearly completely shrouded in darkness. Any cursory glance would overlook him. And, he thought as he slowed his breathing and heart rate, he was good enough to deny any guard a reason to look closer in his general direction.

He moved through the rest of Cade’s in a similar manner: short sprints when the guards’ strict adherence to their schedule created momentary gaps that he could take advantage of, with rests to keep his breath slow and silent interspersed throughout his heist. Eventually, he made it to Cade’s office. As he eased the door closed behind him he was already planning his search of the room. He had exactly twenty minutes to search before his easiest escape opportunity presented itself. If he missed that, there would be a similar opening forty-seven minutes later. If he missed that, the guard rotations changed twelve minutes after that. Those two options were his easiest escape routes. All of his other backup plans would involve at least one encounter with Cade’s guards. Neither he nor Rita had been able to find the specific details of Cade’s staff, but given the nature of her work and the fortune she had already spent on security, he knew enough to know that he didn’t want to fight them, especially not outnumbered.

It didn’t take Peter twenty minutes to find the schedule; it took him two minutes to find it. Apparently, she was more reliant on her security system than he had assumed. The schedule was in her desk drawer, third down on the left. When Peter took the job he promised himself he wouldn’t read it. But this was too easy, too suspicious. He knew he would have to look, to ensure it was real.

He opened the folder. He promised himself he would skip over any mentions of Brahma, he just needed to read enough to ensure it matched the shipments his employers had already discovered were going to happen. It would be impossible for Cade to know exactly which shipments his employers had already uncovered plans for. If this was a decoy, those shipments wouldn’t be there. There were enough to choose from he could confirm it without looking at shipments to Brahma. Predictably, his body had other ideas.

At the first mention of Brahma, he read the entire order before he could stop himself. Then he read it again, consciously this time. It was to New Kinshasa, new parts, for an upgraded Guardian Angel System. He felt as though all the air in his lungs was just knocked out of him. Before he knew what he was doing, his mind was already calculating a new pathway. He was most familiar with the movements of the guards on his way in and out of the office, but he knew enough about the others to plan a path to his new destination. He photographed the schedule, walked over to the door, pulled out his comms and sent the photographs to his employers. He knew he was about to do something ridiculously idiotic, suicidal even, he didn’t want the last job of his career to be a failure. He paused, he knew he may never see Juno again, he had to leave a message for him. Juno had left his comms at the office earlier that day, he wouldn’t see it until tomorrow. Peter was grateful that this message wouldn’t disturb the detective’s sleep—assuming that he wasn’t drunk getting his teeth knocked out of him in one of Hyperion’s shadier bars. He only had a few seconds before he had to leave the room, so his message was short: ‘Brahma. I’m sorry, I love you’. He hoped the detective would piece the rest together.

He opened the door and snuck out of the room. Unfortunately, his new route would bring him into contact with Cade’s guards, that was inevitable. He already had two knives out before he turned the corner. He rounded the corner and threw them at the guards he now stood face-to-face with. They were dead in seconds but he couldn’t stop. In another eighteen seconds, another pair of guards would walk down this hallway and see his handiwork. He had to get as far as he could before every person in this building knew he was here.

The one thing working in his favour was that Cade’s office was close to her bedroom. Less than a minute after his encounter with the guards Peter was in her bedroom, surrounded by five dead bodyguards and a decidedly unimpressed Beatrix Cade.

“Who the hell are you?” She asked, coolly. Peter was caught off-guard by her demeanour for a moment. He wondered if this wasn’t the first time someone had broken into her home like this, it certainly would explain her obsession with security.

“Tell me, do you prefer Beatrix or just Cade?” Cade didn’t answer. “I’m sorry perhaps you didn’t hear me, I asked—”

“I heard you perfectly fine,” she crossed her arms, “who are you?” She repeated. Peter remained silent. “It’s rude not to answer questions like that.” He just watched her. “If you’ve got something to say I would say it quick, in a few seconds my guards are going to break down that door and they won’t ask you who you are before they shoot you.”

“One minute and six seconds, don’t exaggerate.” Peter sat down on the end of her bed, only half facing her. “Tell me, what do you know about Brahma?”

“Brahma?” She leaned forwards as her question piqued her curiosity.

“Yes, small planet, Outer Rim, used to have a bit of a problem with police brutality. What do you know about it?”

“Why, are you looking for a nice planet to send your body after you die.” When Peter didn’t respond to her newfound curiosity got the better of her as she sought to continue the conversation. “More or less what you just told me. They used to be hard on crime until a couple of decades ago when they stopped. They wouldn’t tell anyone why, and there was a rumour that some kid threatened to destroy the capital. The government never acknowledged that though, for obvious reasons.”

“Anything more recent? For example, hypothetically speaking of course, would you happen to know anything about their current plans for the Guardian Angel System.”

“You don’t have a lot of time left,” Peter could hear the guards on the other side of the door, “I wouldn’t waste it asking questions you already know the answer to.”

“Shut it down.” Peter turned to face her fully. “Stop supplying them with the weapons they need,” she just stared at him, unconvinced, “or…” he pulled out another knife, “you and I will have to have another conversation about Outer Rim politics.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” She gave him a smirk to rival his own.

That smile was the last thing Peter saw before a white-hot plan appeared in his stomach. He twisted and slashed at his attacker with the knife in his hand. The movement only widened the hole in his torso. How could he have been so idiotic? He had been so focused on Cade that he had neglected to check the guards on the floor. He had falsely assumed that they had all died from their wounds, but one was just alive enough to approach him when he turned his back to talk to Cade. The second knife wound was enough to kill the guard but the damage was done. He was losing blood and losing time.

“My apologies ma’am,” Peter pulled a button out of his pocket and pressed it, “but I’m afraid I must disappear.” He walked over to the window and opened it. By the time the guards walked into the room, he was already gone. He had climbed out the window into the waiting driver's seat of the Ruby-7.

Peter was almost disappointed by the response from Cade’s security. Between their slow response and the Ruby-7’s speed, they only managed a single shot from the impressively big gun Cade had mounted on the wall around her house. Still, he would rather a boring escape than be dead, he reasoned. Just to be safe, he weaved in and out of the streets of Hyperion, just in case anyone was following him. Satisfied that no-one was pursuing him, he pulled up outside Juno’s apartment building and climbed through the window, waking the detective in the process.

 

“In my defence,” Peter justified his unprofessional entrance, “I had lost about a litre of blood at this point.” Juno didn’t respond for a long time, he didn’t know what to say. Peter watched the range of emotions he managed to display on his face. He doubted his decision to share so much with him, he blamed the blood loss, letting his tongue get away from him. He kept watching Juno, trying to gauge his reaction.

“Peter,” he eventually responded. He had never used just his first name before, Peter expected him to follow it with a ‘Nureyev’, muttered through gritted teeth. But he didn’t, the sound of a name Juno never used hung in the air between them. Peter wasn’t sure how he was meant to respond, nobody calls him Peter. “I’m so sorry.” Peter collapsed into Juno’s arms; he felt a tear rolled down his cheek. He realised it was his tear.

“I thought I could do it,” Peter muttered, “it’s been twenty years, but I still couldn’t resist. I couldn’t help myself, I had to look.”

“I know that feeling,” Juno pulled away slightly, “when every instinct you’ve spent decades training yourself to have is screaming at you to stop. When your head is telling not to do something. But despite all of that, you can’t stop yourself. And you end up doing something someone’s going to regret.” He squeezed Peter’s hand and gave a weak smile. “And you know that there’s no-one else to blame for your own bad decisions.” He looked over at Peter, who tried to give a convincing smile, to reassure the detective that he was helping him. In truth, his melancholy monologue had done nothing but twist the knife in Peter’s heart.

“I guess I’m not helping much, am I?” Juno pulled away and chuckled to himself. “I’m sorry, I’ve never really been one for feel-good speeches. Nice words and pretty sentiments are all and good, but at the end of the day, that’s all they are. I don’t know what you need right now, all I know is what I need to hear when things get bad. So I’m sorry Peter, but if you need someone to recite another person’s idiot proverb to you, you should have climbed through Alessandra Strong’s window, not mine.”

“I never asked for pretty sentiments, Juno.” Peter paused for a moment, temporarily overcome with the pain from his wound. Juno opened his mouth to say something, but Peter raised a hand to cut him off before he got the chance. “I’m fine.” He tried to persuade Juno with a smile but he didn’t seem convinced. “As I was saying, I never asked for pretty sentiments—although you and I both know you were lying when you implied that Alessandra’s words haven’t helped you.” Juno scowled at that, unable to refute his statement. “Regardless, I didn’t climb through Alessandra’s window, I climbed through yours—”

“Fell through my window you mean.” Juno interrupted.

“I climbed through your window, even though I knew you were going to mock me for my less than perfect entrance,” he smiled, “because I wanted you.” Peter raised a hand to brush Juno’s hair off his face. “I love you, Juno” Juno’s eyes widened, neither of them had said that yet. Truthfully, he surprised himself with his words. He found himself saying everything he had wanted to say to Juno since they had first met come pouring out, as his inhibitions left him (along with a not insignificant portion of his blood).

“You’re one of the most magnificent ladies I’ve ever had the fortune to meet. You have one of the sharpest minds I’ve ever encountered. You managed to figure me out, very few can claim that. Not to mention your will. No matter how badly the big mean world tries to push you around, you don’t stay down. You get up, and you keep fighting. Some days you’re only fighting due to blatant spite-fuelled refusal to die, but you’re still fighting. That’s admirable, that means something.

“Even though your obsession with martyring yourself with little regard for those you would leave behind can border on solipsistic at times,” Juno winced as Peter’s words struck home, “I love you, all of you.” He cupped Juno’s face in his hands, “even if you are an impossible idiot.” He kissed Juno, Juno wrapped his arms around his neck had pulled him even closer.

“So much for making you feel better,” Juno eventually pulled away, “so far all I’ve done is feel sorry for myself and make you comfort me. That seems kind of cruel when you think about it.”

“On the contrary Juno, you’ve helped me more than I could ever have hoped for.”

“How?” Juno crossed his arms, visibly suspicious that Peter was only saying that to allay his insecurities.

“You’ve reminded me that there are things worth fighting for, no matter how desperate the situation may appear. If I had of gone to anyone else tonight they would have called me a fool for risking my life on an idealistic mission to threaten profit-fuelled monster, but you never did. I needed someone to reassure me that there are things worth fighting for.”

“C’mon Peter, don’t tell me that my bad decision making is starting to rub off on you.” Juno smiled, a genuine smile this time. Peter was relieved.

“You’ll make a morally outraged person out of me yet. Who knows, I might even vote in the next mayoral election.” They laughed together.

Eventually, Juno was satisfied that Peter wasn’t going to bleed out anytime soon and he helped him stand up. They limped across the apartment together, Juno supporting more of his weight than Peter would care to admit before he set him down on their bed. Peter smiled to himself, their bed, he thought. He wondered how long he had been thinking like that. How long had he been subconsciously labelling Juno’s possessions as belonging to both of them? He decided that it didn’t matter. Juno carefully placed the blankets on top of Peter before climbing into the bed himself Despite his body’s protests, Peter reached out and wrapped his arm around Juno, pulling him close.

The two of them stayed like that for a while before Juno finally broke the silence. “What do you want me to do?” He said, unsure of himself, usually, he was the one in need of comfort. He wasn’t sure how to provide it.

“Don’t go,” Peter mumbled, “please, just stay with me.” Juno hugged him even tighter.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Peter’s heist had been near perfect, except for one small error. Several weeks later his employers called him to tell him that some of his information was wrong. There were no shipments to Brahma.

**Author's Note:**

> Peter, I'm so sorry you don't deserve to be hurt like this.


End file.
